


The Unreliable Narrator

by Sinelaborenihil



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinelaborenihil/pseuds/Sinelaborenihil
Summary: Loosely based on the gameplay modes of Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Unreliable Narrator a multi-chapter fic exploring a romantic relationship between Varric Tethras and Hawke.
Relationships: Female Hawke & Varric Tethras
Kudos: 7





	1. Casual

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure, Fem!Hawke/Varric is my Dragon Age OTP. While I love their friendship and don't think that a man and a woman who are friends must necessarily get together, I always felt that there was more to their relationship. So, I've been writing it in bits and pieces for awhile. I realized that it kind of lined up with the game modes and decided to go with it. 
> 
> So, some of you may be reading my other fic "The Wolf You Feed", that has my cannon Hawke/Fenris romance. However, while _my_ Hawke always ends up with Fenris, I think Hawke in general is with Varric, if that makes sense. I needed a break from editing TWYF, so I decided to work on this a little bit. I hope that you enjoy it.

“A warden must help them rebuild! That’s your job. Corypheus is mine.”  


If he lived to be as old as Flemmeth, Varric would never forget how it felt to stand before the Nightmare Demon and hear Hawke say those words. He knew from the look in her eyes that she meant every one and the few seconds before Inquisitor Lavellan said: “Stroud” were the longest of Varric’s life.   


The Gray Warden had stayed, sacrificing his life for them all, and before he knew it they were out of the Fade and back at Adamant. The Inquisitor had sent the Wardens away, a bold choice he would think later. But right then, right then all he could think of was that Hawke was still there. Still alive.   


And he was _furious_ with her.   


He heard her say that she was going to Weisshaupt to warn the Wardens of what had happened, because of course she had to do that too. He stumped off to his tent, ignoring the surprised look on her face when he said nothing to her. He changed out of his blood and Maker knew what else soaked clothes and scrubbed down as best he could with his ewer and cleaning water ration before flinging himself down on his bedroll and draping his arm over his eyes.   


He must have dozed off, because her voice knocked him out of an uneasy sleep.  


“Varric?”  


For a moment he thought about pretending to be asleep and ignoring her, but that would have been childish. Instead, he sat up and gave her a long, hard look.  


She’d obviously gotten cleaned up as well. She was no longer wearing her armor, just a red tunic similar to the one that she wore at home, but made of sturdier materials. She was holding a bottle wrapped in leather and two small metal glasses. “Drink?” she asked, her eyes searching his.   


“That’s all you have to say?” he said quietly. He could hear the anger in his voice and he knew from the slight upward jerk of her chin that she heard it too and was ready to fight him about it. 

Good.   


“Varric, I’m leaving tomorrow for Weisshaupt,” she said, sounding tired. “Must we do this?”  


“Do what?” he asked, holding her eyes.  


She set the bottle down on his table, along with the glasses, and put her hands on her hips. “I know that you’re angry with me,” she said. “For offering to stay in the fade.”  


He gritted his teeth and looked away from her. “That isn’t the right word,” he said.  


“I’m no writer,” she replied with a shrug he could see out of the corner of his eye. “It’s the best one I have. I’m sorry for any pain I caused you. I feel like that’s all I ever do to the people I love. But I would make the offer again, if presented with the same situation. I do feel it’s my responsibility.”  


“This isn’t Kirkwall,” he snarled at her with more venom than he intended. He saw her flinch, but she did not look away. “You aren’t the Champion here, Hawke! You aren’t responsible for everything!”  


“That’s rich coming from you!” she retorted, some of the weariness in her voice replaced with anger.  


“What’s that supposed to mean?” Varric snarled back.  


“Seeker Penteghast told me that you are free to go!” she replied. “That you have been for a long time! Since before Haven was destroyed.” Her hands returned to her hips as she parroted his words back at him. “This isn’t Kirkwall, Varric! You aren’t responsible for everything.”   


He glared at her, clenching his fists at his sides. He wanted to shake her. “It isn’t the same!”  


“It’s _exactly_ the same!”  


“I haven’t tried to sacrifice myself lately,” he growled. “I didn’t offer to stay in the Fade, even though me and Bartrand are responsible for the Red Lyrium coming to the surface!”   


“My blood freed Corypheus,” she replied, once again sounding exhausted. “But it doesn’t matter now, Varric. It’s done. Inquisitor Lavellan made her choice and I am here and leaving tomorrow for I don’t know how long. Please...please don’t make me leave with things not being right between us, Varric. If nothing else, please say: ‘Goodnight Hawke’ like you do every time you walk me home from the Hanged Man”.  


He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. He glared down at the ground, trying to shake the image of the Nightmare from his mind. He saw it devouring her. Heard it telling him _Once again Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric. You found the red lyrium, you brought Hawke here._   


He heard her sigh. “I hope you will forgive me one day,” she said quietly. “I will miss you when I am gone, I always do.” She hesitated. “Goodnight Varric,” she said, her voice thick with tears. And then she was gone.  


He dropped down heavily on his stool and put his face in his shaking hands, but was on his feet almost instantly. He couldn’t leave things as they were. Not with Hawke. He picked up the bottle and glasses, then hurried down to where her own tent was set up. In the fading light he could see her silhouette by her lantern. She was shoving things into a bag.   


“Shit,” he whispered. She was packing up to leave. He hurried down and rapped on the tent post. Inside she went still.   


“Hawke?” he said, trying to sound remotely normal. She didn’t respond and with a sigh, Varric slid between the tent flaps and looked up at her. Her eyes were red and her face was streaked with tears and as she looked down at him she clenched and unclenched her fists.   


“I thought I might as well leave for Weisshaupt,” she gritted out. “Since it appears there’s nothing for me here.”  


He set the bottle and glasses down and took a few steps towards her. She held her ground, though tears were trickling down her face.   


“I was an ass,” he said, reaching out and taking her hands. He was heartened when she didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry. I...I honestly can’t think of a time that I was so scared. The thought of losing you like that...not even getting to say goodbye…” he felt the tears in his own eyes. “I can’t lose you like that, Hawke. I just...can’t.”  


“Varric,” she said quietly. “I’m still here.”  


“You almost weren’t!” he said, tightening his grip on her hands. “You volunteered to not be! And the damnable thing is, I wouldn’t love you like I do if that wasn’t exactly what I’d expect you to do!”  


He heard her give a little gasp and only realized in that moment what he had said. He felt a blush rising on his cheeks. He’d always meant to tell her one day just...perhaps not quite like that. He looked up at her helplessly and found her lovely eyes watching him.   


“What did you just say?” she breathed.  


Varric sighed, his stomach turning over. But the words were out there now and he might as well own them. “I said that I love you, Marian Hawke. And since, as you said, you’re leaving for Weisshaupt and who knows how long it will be until we see each other again, no, I don’t mean I love you as a friend. I mean...I do. You’re my best friend, which is part of why this is one of the most terrifying conversations I’ve ever had. But I’m in love with you.” She was disturbingly silent, especially for Hawke, and Varric’s heart pounded in his ears. Had he just ruined a decade of friendship?  


“Oh, Varric,” she whispered, her eyes shining with tears.  


“I’m sorry, Hawke,” he said immediately. “I-just forget I said anything all right? We can just...go back. Let’s have that drink.” He felt an awful tightness in his throat. All of the emotions of the past day had gotten to him and he’d shared his biggest secret. What if he lost her? What if she sent him out of her tent and he never saw her again?  


“We can’t go back, Varric,” she said quietly and he could have cried.   


“Hawke...” he managed to grit out. “Please-”  


She stepped close to him and leaned down, then kissed him softly. He heard himself make the most pathetic little sob of relief and need and Maker knew what else as he wrapped his arms around her and clasped her to him as hard as he could. Her lips parted against his and he tentatively caressed them with his tongue before pulling back and looking up at her. “Hawke?” he asked. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he was still trapped in the Fade.  


“I love you too,” she said quietly. “I’m in love with you too. For years.” She gave him one of her sassy smiles. “At least now maybe you can send me off to Weisshaupt with some good memories.”  


He kissed her this time, pulling her against him and sinking his hands into her hair. She eagerly kissed him back, her tongue seeking out his as she pressed her body against him and draped her arms over his shoulders. When they broke away, breathing a little heavily, Varric put his arms around her waist and simply hugged her. “I love you,” he said again, testing how the words sounded without being clouded by his fear.  


“I love you, too,” she said, giving him a squeeze back. She leaned back and caressed his cheek and he couldn’t help but lean into her touch, marvelling at how good it felt. “So...about those good memories…”  


He looked up at her, his heart beginning to pound again. His throat had suddenly gone completely dry. “Hawke-”  


She looked down, a mischievous smile on her face. She didn’t answer, just reached up and undid the laces of her shirt. He watched her, and if Corypheus and a horde of darkspawn had rampaged through the camp at that moment, he still wouldn’t have been able to tear his eyes away when she let the shirt fall from her shoulders and to the floor of her tent. She looked at him, her full lips curling into a coy smile. “Should I keep going?” she asked, her voice husky.  


“No,” he heard himself say, reaching for her. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply as he reached behind her to untie her breastband. She gasped into the kiss, but he could feel her smiling as he pulled the fabric away and let it fall. He broke the kiss so that he could look at her, and caught the brief expression of uncertainty in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I cross a line?”  


She shook her head, her hand dropping down to her belly and suddenly he knew. He gently took her hand and pulled it away from the jagged scar that crossed her abdomen from her battle with the Arishok. “I’m being ridiculous,” she said with a little chuff of laughter. “You’ve been there with me when I got most of these scars. It’s just...been a long time since anyone has seen me naked.”  


“You’re not naked yet,” he teased gently and was rewarded by a grin.   


“You should fix that,” she said a little breathlessly.   


“You know, you’re right,” he said and picked her up. She let out a little squeal that ended in a giggle that was maybe the most beautiful sound that he’d ever heard. He laid her down on her bedroll and knelt between her legs, looking up at her. Her skin was flushed in the lantern light and he couldn’t help but notice how hard her nipples were. She was propped up on her elbows and looking down at him, grinning. Without speaking, he reached up and took hold of her trousers and slowly began to pull them down. She lifted her hips for him, letting out a little whimper as his fingers caught her smallclothes and pulled them down as well.  


“Maker, Hawke,” Varric rasped. She had let her knees fall open and he could see every inch of her. It was better than anything that he had ever dreamed of. Her long, strong legs caught the lantern light, letting him see the movement of her muscles as she shifted restlessly.   


“Like what you see?” she teased.  


He leaned in and planted a kiss on the inside of her thigh, gratified by the way she sharply whispered his name.   


“Yes, Hawke?” he replied, kissing a little higher up.  


“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said softly. “I want to see you, too.”  


He blushed and knew that she’d seen it when she grinned at him and sat up. Gently she lifted his shirt over his head and leaned in to press a kiss to his collarbone. He groaned as she kissed down his chest, brushing her fingers through his chest hair. She nibbled at his hip as she pulled his trousers and smallclothes down, and then they were naked together. She gave him an appreciative look that made him blush as she stroked her hands down his belly and towards his achingly hard cock.   


“Maker, Hawke,” he groaned as she leaned in and brushed her lips over the tip.   


“Mmmm?” she replied, her tongue darting out to taste him. “Should I stop?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow up at him as she began to kiss down his length.   


Unable to speak, he settled for shaking his head and sliding his fingers into her hair. She wrapped one of her hands around the base of his cock and cupped his balls with the other and then suddenly, sucked the entirety of his cock into her mouth. He let out a wild yell and clutched at her hair, his hips moving of their own accord as she took every last bit of him. Her hands, so warm and gentle, stroked and caressed him as she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked him hard.  


“Marian!” he could hear how ragged his voice sounded and he glanced down in time to see her grin.   


“Mmmm?” she murmured, her warm mouth vibrating around him.  


He gasped, tightening his hands in her hair. “I-I’m going to-”  


She growled around him, picking up the pace as she stroked her fingertips behind his balls and it sent him crashing over the edge. He heard himself yell her name as his body spasmed and jerked, his hands fisting in her hair as he pulled her to him harder than he’d intended. She didn’t pull away as he came, letting him pull her mouth all the way down around him as she rode him out through his orgasm. He was all but sobbing her name when the last aftershocks finally released him, and he looked down to see her still wrapped around him, one of her dark eyebrows raised. Slowly she pulled back until he slipped from between her lips and held his eyes as she swallowed.   


“Marian!” he growled and jerked her to himself, crushing his lips against hers as he tumbled them down onto her bedroll. He wanted to devour her, to show her all that she was to him. His lips left hers as he began to work his way down her body. He took his time, sucking and licking at her collarbone and the soft skin between her breasts. He loved how she moaned when he took one of her hard nipples into his mouth and sucked it hard. Her hands were clutching at him, stroking through his hair, and digging into his shoulders.  


“Varric please,” she whispered, her hips rocking.   


“What do you need?” he asked softly.  


“Touch me,” she replied. “Please...I want you to feel me.”  


He could hardly deny her. He slid his hand down her body and between her legs, letting out a moan of his own as he felt how wet she was. He found her clit with the pad of his middle finger and began to stroke her in slow, languid circles. She gasped and moaned under him, her back arching up as she spread her legs for him. Watching her for any sign of discomfort, Varric slid one of his fingers inside of her, almost sobbing with need as her tight wetness clenched around him.   


He had to taste her.   


He slid down her body, leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses as he made his way to her dripping center. He loved how she gasped his name as he draped her legs over his shoulders and buried his face in her cunt, his tongue seeking out her clit as he slid two fingers into her. She arched off the bed with a ragged moan and he drove her relentlessly towards the edge, needing to give her the same pleasure she had given him. She arched and clenched around him, her hips moving in restless circles as her long, deft fingers pulled his hair out of its usual queue. She tugged him towards her as she suddenly stilled.  


“Varric!” she breathed. “Varric fuck I’m so close I need you please!”  


He flattened his tongue against her clit and ground it against her hard, crooking his fingers towards himself. She screamed and her back bowed off the bed as she came, her fingers tightening in his hair so hard it brought tears to his eyes.  


“Stop, stop, stop, stop!” she whimpered, writhing beneath him. “Varric, I can’t take anymore please!”  


He chuckled and kissed her inner thigh, wiping his face with his hand before kissing up her body again.   


She pulled him against herself, kissing him deeply. “Maker,” she breathed against his lips.   


“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he said, kissing along her jaw and down to her neck.  


“Oh?” she replied, one of her eyebrows raising. “Ever do anything about it?”  


He cupped her cheek and gave her his best rakish smile. “And if I did?”  


“I’d like to hear about it,” she said with a shrug, smiling back.   


“You first,” he said.   


“Every night you walked me home,” she said with a little smile.   


He blinked at her. “You aren’t serious.”  


She blushed. “Pretty much,” she said quietly. “The feeling of your thigh against mine when we played cards always drove me crazy. I always just wanted you to touch me. So I’d get home, get into bed, and rub my clit pretending it was you.”  


He couldn’t have contained his shudder of need if he’d tried. “Fuck, Hawke!”   


She raised an eyebrow. “What about you?”  


He kissed her hard. “I thought about it all the time,” he growled. “I thought about how you would taste, how you would feel, how crazy it drove me every time someone else flirted with you.”  


“Really?” she breathed. “You? Jealous?”  


“Constantly,” he said, kissing her neck.   


“I never figured you for the possessive type,” Hawke said, grinning and stroking her hands through his hair.   


“Me neither,” he admitted. “I never have been before. But I am with you.”  


“Mmmm,” she replied, nibbling down his neck and making him gasp. “I think that I like that. I’d love to see what that looks like.”  


“Let’s just put it this way,” Varric said against her ear. “Iron Bull offhand mentioned how good your ass looks and I almost decked him.”  


She giggled and the sound brought him back to the Hanged Man and home. “Iron Bull, eh?” she teased. “You know, after all the things I heard about me and the Arishok I’ve always been curious…”  


He growled and grabbed her wrists, pinning them over her head with one hand. She made a token struggle, moaning when he kissed her deeply and palmed her breast with his free hand. “No,” he said into her neck.  


“No?”   


“Fuck no.”   


She shivered and looked into his eyes. “This is a new side of you, Varric Tethras,” she said with a soft smile.   


“It isn’t,” he admitted, looking up at her. “I’ve just never been brave enough to show you before.”  


“Well, if I’d known that taking on a nightmare demon was all that I needed to do to get into your pants-”  


“Stop,” he said, holding his finger to her lips as he shuddered. “Not funny, Hawke. I came way too close to losing you today.”  


She kissed him and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she said.   


He snorted. “No you aren’t,” he said against her lips.   


“I’m sorry for scaring you,” she said. “And I’m sorry that I almost lost the chance to suck your cock.”  


He let out a bark of laughter. “Woman, you have no tact at all!”  


“Have I ever?” she asked, grinning.  


He shook his head. “And that’s part of why I love you, even if you’re slowly making me go gray.”  


She stroked her fingers through the hair at his temples. “Oh, I don’t know. I think it makes you look distinguished.”  


He growled at her and nipped at her neck, smiling when she squeaked and wrapped her legs around his waist.   


She met his eyes. “Varric?”  


He swallowed hard. He knew her better than anyone else in the world and though it scared him, he had to admit that she could say the same about him. “What is it, Hawke?”  


“Will you make love to me, before I go to Weisshaupt?” she asked quietly, a blush coloring her cheeks. “I want us to have that before-” her amber eyes grew shiny. “Before we go Maker knows how long without seeing each other.”  


“I don’t know,” Varric said with mock concern. “I would hate to awaken a lust for my flesh when it would only serve to torture you for months. Perhaps we should wait.”  


Her eyes narrowed and before he knew it, she’d flipped him on his back and was straddling him. His cock jerked and twitched as he looked up at her, the lantern light making the shadows play across the tempting peaks of her nipples. “I could say the same to you,” she murmured huskily, reaching for his hands and bringing them to her breasts.   


He moaned, loving the feeling of her hard nipples in his palms. “Fuck, Hawke!”  


“If you don’t mind,” she said a grin.  


“I’ve never been one to deny a lady,” he replied, taking hold of her hips. “Are you sure about this, Hawke?” he asked. “We can’t take this back.”  


“I can’t imagine ever wanting to,” she said with a smile so sweet it warmed him down to his toes. “I’m sure if you are.”  


He motioned for her to lean down and kiss him, pressing her lips open with his tongue when she did. He broke the kiss, his hand twined in her hair and brushed his lips against her ear. “Never been more sure of anything,” he said quietly. “I’m yours, Hawke.”  


She smiled, leaning her head against his. “As I’m yours, Varric.”  


They both moved at the same time, him rocking his hips up as she slowly lowered herself onto him and when they met Varric threw his head back into the pillows, gasping. She was so wet and tight and as she looked down into his eyes he felt utterly and completely whole.   


“Hawke,” he moaned, clutching her to him like a dying man. “Sweet Maker, Hawke, you feel so good!”  


She nodded, moaning, her forehead pressed against his. “Fuck, Varric! This is better than anything I ever imagined.”  


He grinned up at her, kissing her nose. “Always nice to hear,” he teased.   


She giggled and it made her move around him in the most delicious way, making him gasp.  


She pulled back a little, sitting up and running a hand through her hair as she smiled down at him.   


“You’re gorgeous,” he said simply, running his hands up and down her sides.   


She blushed. “Hush,” she said, stroking her fingertips through his chest hair. “Isabela is going to be so jealous,” she teased.  


“You can’t tell her, Hawke,” Varric said with an exaggerated sigh. “I fear that the woman would never recover from knowing that she missed her chance.”  


Hawke snorted. “You fear that she’ll write you into her ‘friend fiction’.”  


Varric gave a shudder. “She made me read some of it, Hawke. The things that go on in that woman’s mind would make your toes curl.”  


“You’re doing a good enough job of that right now,” Hawke teased, suddenly clenching around him.   


His back arched off the bed as he clutched at her hips and when he was able to think again he looked up at her and saw her watching him with a hungry expression on his face. Suddenly the distance between them was too much. He sat up and took her in his arms, moaning as she wrapped her legs around him. “I love you,” he whispered as they began to move together. “I love you, Hawke, and you had better take care of yourself, do you understand me?” He looked up at her and leaned into her hand when she caressed his cheek. “Come back to me in one piece. We have so much more weird shit to see and do together.”  


“Mmmmm, like what?” she asked, rocking around him as her fingernails trailed up and down his back.  


“I mean it,” he said, taking hold of her chin and making her look into his eyes. “I mean it, Hawke. Even before tonight, losing you would have broken my heart. But now…” his throat grew tight. “We’ve only just found this. I can’t stand the thought of losing it.”  


She kissed him sweetly, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. “Neither can I,” she said. “I will try to come home as soon as I can, Varric. In one piece, even.” She leaned back and looked into his eyes and the sadness in them made Varric catch his breath. “But when has anything in my life gone to plan? I’m going to enjoy the hell out of tonight and hope that it’s only the beginning.” Her eyes grew shiny and he reached up to wipe away the tears that began to fall. “And if this is the only night we have like this, well, let’s make it amazing.”  


He kissed her hard, hoping that it conveyed every ounce of his love and worry for her and she kissed him back with equal fervor. They spent the night getting to know each other in this new and wonderful way, finally collapsing in each other’s arms as the first rays of sunshine began to lighten the sides of the tent.   


“Damn, Varric,” Hawke murmured sleepily. “That was…”  


“Yeah,” he rasped, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  


She sighed. “I have to get going,” she said sadly. “The Inquisitor is letting me have one of Horsemaster Dennet’s mounts, but it’s still three weeks in the saddle to Weisshaupt.”  


“Three weeks?” Varric said, hugging her to himself a little more tightly. “Another hour won’t make much difference either way then.”  


She giggled, but he could hear the sadness in her voice. “I want to stay,” she said, stroking her fingertips up and down his arms. “You know that I do.”  


“But you have to go,” Varric said. “I know, Hawke. I know you. I know you won’t leave this with Baby Hawke still a Warden.”  


Hawke nodded, her eyes tightening at the mention of her brother. “I’ll write to you,” she promised. “As often as I can. I promise.”  


Varric’s throat was too tight to speak, so he nodded and helped her stand. Together they cleaned up and dressed before he hoisted her pack onto his shoulders and walked with her down to where the mounts were tied out. He helped her saddle her horse, a lovely Taslin Strider, bred for endurance. Finally, there was nothing left but the awful part he had been dreading.   
He pulled her into a fierce embrace, his arms tight enough around her waist that she squeaked. “Be safe,” he growled. “Do you hear me, Hawke? Be safe and come home to me or I swear-”  


She kissed him, her chapped lips gently urging his open as her hands slid into his hair. “I promise I will do everything I can to come home to you,” she said, looking into his eyes with uncharacteristic seriousness. “I love you, Varric Tethras. You be safe too, you’re the one fighting an ancient darkspawn who thinks he’s a magister.” She cocked her head. “I worry about you too, you know,” she said softly.   


“I love you, too, Hawke,” Varric rasped, cupping her cheek. “I promise I’ll be as safe as I can be.”  


“That’s all anyone can do,” she said with a sad smile. Tears began to trickle down her face. “Ah, fuck me, I’m awful at goodbyes.” She glanced at the sun, which hadn’t yet risen all the way. “I’m going to pretend that it’s just another really late night at the Hanged Man.” She kissed him again and then pulled away abruptly, mounting her horse. “Goodnight, Varric,” she said, her lips quivering. “I love you.”  


“Goodnight Hawke,” he managed to grit out as he desperately looked up into her face and tried to memorize every inch of it. “I love you too.”  


She gave him a wobbly smile and then put her heels to her horse, cantering off to the north. He watched her until she disappeared over the horizon, tears streaking down his face. _Maker please preserve her. Take care of my girl._  


“Goodbyes suck,” Iron Bull said from behind him. A handkerchief appeared over Varric’s shoulder and he accepted it gratefully. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose before turning around to face the massive qunari. “Did you finally tell her how you felt?” Bull asked, raising an eyebrow.  


“You knew?” Varric asked with a startled laugh.  


“Ben Hassrath, remember?” Bull replied. “Not that you really needed special training to see how you two felt about each other.” He clapped Varric on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go have some breakfast. It’ll make you feel better.”  


Varric gave one last glance at the horizon before nodding and letting Iron Bull lead him away. No matter what happened, at least he had gotten to tell her.

****

_Varric,_

_I really should have taken Sebastian up on those riding lessons. I’m sore in places I didn’t even know I had and I can only blame a little bit of it on our night together. Roads are fine. I miss you already._

_I love you,_  
_Hawke_

_Hawke,_

_I never understood the human fascination with horses anyway. They stink and can stomp a man to death. Be safe. I can’t stop thinking about you._

_I love you,_  
_Varric_

_Varric,_

_It’s amazing to me that even the countryside around Orlais somehow manages to be snooty. I have never seen so many trimmed bushes. It’s weird. Some of the shapes would make you laugh. There was one that made me think of you. My hands don’t feel like enough now that I’ve had the real thing.  
Being safe, I promise._   
_I love you,_  
_Hawke_

_Hawke,_

_I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted that a shrub made you think of me, but I will admit that I’m not sorry your hand isn’t enough anymore. Mine isn’t either, for the record. Things here are predictably weird. We managed to keep Coryphetits (that’s Sera’s new name for him and I have to say I approve) from assassinating Empress Celene and the Inquisitor has convinced her, Briala, and Gaspard to work together. Now we’re off to the Arbor Wilds to look for some elfy temple. Solas is over the moon. I have a feeling that things are going to get interesting for me again, but I promise that I’ll be as safe as I can. I miss you. This would be easier if we could do it together. I love you._  
_Varric_

_Varric,_

_Not a shrub. It was a very nice bush. I’m proud of you for all that you are helping them do, even though I wish you were safer. But when have we ever been safe? Still, an ancient elfy temple? When have ancient anythings ever been good news for us? Please, please, please be safe. I can see mountains in the distance, so I must be getting close. I miss you and love you._  
_Hawke_

_Hawke,_

_I’m not sure that a bush is better. And you won’t believe this shit. We found Ancient elves, Hawke, Ancient elves alive in the temple. The Inquisitor made us do these weird rituals that made the floor light up and I shit you not, the elves decided to help us. We were able to get the Well of Sorrows (long story, I’ll tell you later), but it was...closer than I would have liked. Still, I’m fine. Missing you, like always, but fine. Please be safe. I love you._

_Varric_

_Hawke,_

_We fucking did it. I still can’t believe it. There were an uncomfortable number of dragons involved, but I can’t wait to tell you all about it. I’m starting to worry, so write back, all right? I just need to know you’re safe. I love you._

_Varric_

It took her much longer to reply to his next letter, long enough that he was really starting to worry. 

_Varric,_

_I fucking knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you! Thank you. I have arrived at Weisshaupt but, Varric, things are weird. You probably aren’t going to hear from me for awhile. I’ll write when I can. I promise to be as safe as I can. I love you._

__

_Hawke_

_Hawke,_

_What do you mean “weird”? The last “weird” shit the Wardens did got us Corypheus. I don’t like you being there alone. I’m off to Orlais for the “Exalted Council”. Reading between the lines, I’m guessing that Orlais and Ferelden are getting nervous with a giant army loyal only to the Inquisitor on their doorsteps. Should be interesting. Please be safe. I love you._

_Varric_  


Varric stared at Seneschal Bran, his heart sinking to his boots. He recognized the letter that the other man held. He’d sent it to Hawke before leaving for the shit-show that was the Exalted Council, close to eight months ago.   


“What happened?” he rasped.   


“No one could find her,” Bran said, his eyes worried. “They tried for months, but Weisshaupt isn’t letting anyone in or out and no one in the neighboring towns had seen her.”  


Varric nodded, his throat closing. No, not like this. “Thank you, Bran,” he somehow managed to grit out.   


Bran nodded and excused himself, bowing out of the room.   


Varric sank into his desk chair, staring down at the letter. “Hawke,” he whispered. “Please don’t let this be it.”  


The letter offered no comfort to him and with a snarl he balled it up and threw it into the fire. He had a lot of spies, what use were they if no one could get a message to her? He swallowed hard. They had never failed him before. He had always had the comfort of knowing that he would be able to track her down if he needed to. Now he didn’t even have that. What was he going to do? He put his head in his hands, feeling panic threatening to overwhelm him. His heart was racing and tears burned in his eyes. His own words came back to haunt him. It’s not a good story unless the hero dies.   


“Maker please,” he whispered. “I don’t need this to be a good story. I just need it to be a happy one.”  
  
****

Months passed, as they did, and despite a bevy of letters, Varric continued to hear nothing from Hawke. The waiting and worry was taking its toll on him, with even Aveline remarking that he was being short-tempered.   


“I know you’re worried,” she said gently as they sat together in their weekly meeting. “But some of the younger guards are scared to be posted here. They say that you snap at every messenger.”  


Varric ran a hand through his hair, wincing. “I know,” he said with a sigh. “I know, Aveline. I’m sorry.”  


“Still nothing?” she asked.  


He shook his head.   


Aveline patted his shoulder. “She’s a strong woman,” she said with all her usual surety. “We’ll see her again, Varric. I’m sure of it.”  


“I hope that you’re right,” Varric said, staring out the window into the darkness and lashing rain. It had been raining forever, it felt like. And the late fall weather was making everything so gloomy. It was no wonder he was feeling melancholy. “Send up some of the guards I spooked,” he said, turning back to Aveline. “I want to apologize to them personally.”  


Aveline smiled at him and he saw the approval in her green eyes. “I’ll do that, your Grace,” she teased.   


He rolled his eyes at her and took a deep breath, trying to force some of the tension out of his shoulders. “All right,” he said. “Let’s get to work.”

****

_Varric,_

__

__

_I’m sorry it has been so long. I am still alive, but I am leaving Weisshaupt before that ceases to be the case. I’ll see you in Kirkwall, Maker willing. I love you and have missed you.  
Hawke_

Varric held the letter with shaking hands. It was dated close to three weeks previously, so where the hell was she? He looked at the messenger. “Where did you last see her?” he asked in a voice that shook.  


“Beggin’ pardon, your Grace,” the young man said, tugging his forelock. “But it came through one of the raven relay stations. I saw the address and thought I should bring it right away. My birds are clever, but they can’t tell me that kind of thing.”  


Varric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course she’d sent a raven. Why would she send something nice and sapient that he could shake and ask questions? He tried to calm himself down. 

He knew she’d likely sent the raven because it would get to him the fastest, which still begged the question: where the hell was she?  


He forced himself to smile at the messenger and paid him an extra sovereign. “If you get any other messages for me with her crest, bring them to me, I don’t care what time night or day, do you understand?” he asked.  


The messenger nodded and bowed his way out of the room once Varric dismissed him.  


His heart was pounding in his chest as he began to pace his office. He knew intellectually that there was nothing he could do at this juncture. He tried to calm himself down. “Damn it, Hawke,” he growled out loud. “Come home!”

****

It was about two weeks later that Varric was in an extremely boring meeting with the nobility of Hightown. As always, they had complaints about their taxes, nevermind that the tax increase had made it possible for them to rebuild Kirkwall. Of course, the crux of the issue was that Varric had made sure that the money had gone to all of Kirkwall, not just Hightown. Few cared how the elves in the Alienage or the refugees in Lowtown lived. But he was one of the few. He was about to say something snarky to the one of the puffed up dandies when there was suddenly a furious pounding on the chamber door.   


“Your Grace!” Seneschal Bran yelled.   


Varric raised an eyebrow. Bran never yelled.   


“Yes, Bran?” Varric called back.  


There was no reply, but the door swung open and Varric felt his heart stop in his chest.  


Hawke stood in the doorway leaning heavily on her staff. There were dark circles around her eyes and she looked like she’d lost ten pounds. Her clothes were filthy, her hair was a disaster, and she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. He didn’t remember crossing the room, only the moment that his lips found hers and her arms went around his neck. She gave a little sob into the kiss and he clutched her to himself, parting his lips to deepen the kiss.   


She gave a wobbly smile when they finally broke the kiss, panting. “I see you have guests,” she murmured. “I should go.”  


“Gentlemen,” Varric said, not taking his eyes off of her. “I’m afraid that we are going to have to continue this another time.”  


“Are you serious?” Compte Dejunais sputtered.   


“Deathly,” Varric growled, shooting him a look that could make even the most hardened Deshyr blanche. The nobles took the hint and scuttled from the room.   


For once Bran didn’t look disapproving when he poked his head in once the last member of the peerage had departed. “Did you need anything, your Grace?” he asked.  


“A bath,” Hawke said immediately. “Or seven. I’m a mess.”  


“Dinner?” Varric asked, eyeing her figure with concern.   


“Or seven,” Hawke agreed, grinning.   


Bran chuckled and inclined his head. “Shall I see that guest quarters are prepared?” he asked.  


“That won’t be necessary, Bran,” Varric said, putting his arm around Hawke’s waist and tugging her closer. “Right?”  


She nodded and Bran chuckled. “It shall be done,” he said before hurrying away.  


The door had scarcely closed before Varric pulled Hawke down for another kiss, this one deep and hungry. She moaned against his lips and his entire body filled abruptly with need for her. “Where the _fuck_ have you been?” he growled, his hands tangling into her hair.   


“Walking,” Hawke said wryly. “The Wardens took my horse. ‘Conscripted’ was their word.”   


“Not even a letter?” he asked. “So that I’d know that you weren't’ dead? I was fucking terrified, Hawke!”   


“I _tried_!” she retorted, wincing as his hands caught a knot in her black hair. “But I wasn’t exactly traveling as a member of the peerage, Varric! People aren’t often willing to extend credit to an apostate who wanders into town penniless.”  


“Penniless?” Varric asked, his anger fading in an instant. What had she endured in the past few weeks?  


She shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly planning on a long road trip when I left to help the Inquisition,” she pointed out. “I got by, but it was...tight towards the end.”  


“I’m sorry, Hawke,” he said immediately. “I should have known.”  


“It’s all right,” she replied, caressing his cheek. “Just don’t ask me to go camping anytime soon, all right?”  


He pulled her in for another kiss, not letting her go until there was a soft knock at the door. “Your bath is ready, Champion,” Bran said from the other side of the door, wisely not opening it.   


“Come on,” Varric said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.   


Hawke let him lead her through the warren of corridors that made up the private spaces of the Viscount’s Keep until they reached the Viscount’s bathing chamber. She gasped when they walked in, her amber eyes widening. “Sweet Maker,” she breathed. “I might never leave.”  


Varric had to nod. There were a few perks of being Viscount, and the bathing chamber was one of them. The room was spacious and well-lit, with windows that had been magically sealed against draughts from outside. The rooms looked over his private garden, which somehow looked beautiful even with the rain lashing at the delicate leaves.   


Within the room itself there were several different areas. There was a small room that could be filled with steam and outside of that a frigid pool to hop into after sitting for a long time in the steam. 

There was a shallow, tepid bath to scrub down in after heavy exertion or a long journey, as well as a deep, heated pool meant for soaking.   


“As much as I want to crawl into that pool with you, I should probably scrub for a good long while,” Hawke said with some regret.   


Varric smiled up at her and began to undress her.   


She gasped and gave him an uncertain look. “Varric, I stink,” she protested.  


“So?” he replied, leaning in and kissing her collarbone.   


She gasped quietly, stroking her fingers through his hair and giving it a gentle tug. “You can’t want me like this,” she said a little breathlessly as he dropped her armor to the ground, quickly followed by the sweat-soaked clothes underneath. The knot in her breastband gave him some trouble and he let out a little growl and pulled out a dagger from his boot. Her eyes were wide as he slit it up the middle and sheathed the blade again, palming her breasts roughly and leaning up to kiss her. She was breathing hard when he pulled back and hooked his fingers in her smalls, tugging them down. She wrapped her arms around her waist, but he took her hands so that he could see her.   


“Maker, Hawke,” he breathed.   


She blushed and looked down. “It hasn’t been the easiest few months,” she admitted.  


Her body was covered in still-healing cuts and bruises, with one particularly long trio of scars down her back from her left shoulder to her right hip.   


“Wyvern,” she explained. “I wasn’t quite quick enough.”  


He jerked her to him and kissed her hard, his hands shaking as they smoothed up and down her back and sides softly. He could feel the tears in his eyes when he pulled back and looked up at her. 

“Thank you for making it back to me,” he rasped. He leaned in and kissed the cuts and bruises that he could reach, barely ghosting his lips over them as she made quiet little sounds of need.   


“Varric-I stink,” she protested.  


“So you’ve said,” he murmured against her skin. And she wasn’t wrong. “But I don’t fucking care, Hawke. I’ve spent weeks thinking you were dead. I’m going to have you, then you can bathe until you grow gills for all I care.”  


She gasped, her pupils abruptly filling her eyes. “Oh?” she breathed, reaching for the laces that held his shirt closed. She unlaced them and then pulled the shirt over his head, stroking her fingers through his chest hair with a fond smile. His trousers and smalls were quick to follow and Varric wasted no time in pulling her against him for another long kiss. He walked her back to the divan under the window and lay her down, kneeling between her legs and thrusting into her with one long stroke. She cried out, clutching at his shoulders, and he smiled as he leaned down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. He could taste the salt of her sweat and his gently exploring hands found the bumps and ridges of all of her new scars. Maker, what had she survived to return to him?  


He reached between them and found her clit with his thumb, slowing the motion of his body so that he could stroke her.   


“Varric!” Hawke cried out, arching her back beneath him.   


“Yes?” he murmured, unable to take his eyes off of her face.  


“Please don’t stop,” she whimpered, her hips moving in tight little circles that pushed him close to the edge. “Please-fuck I’ve missed you, I need to feel you, fuckfuckfuckfuck!”  


He chuckled, his eyes tearing up. “That’s my girl,” he teased as he stroked her faster. “Eloquent as always.”  


She let out a breathless laugh and swatted at his arm, clutching it suddenly as her body went still. He could see and feel the little tremors that rippled through her body and he knew that if he kept going, he’d push her over the edge. “Cum for me, Hawke,” he growled, kissing the knee that was draped over his shoulder.   


“Oh Varric,” she whispered, her hand on his arm tightening almost painfully as her body stilled. She was only still for a moment, however, before her body began to jerk and a guttural wail escaped her lips. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, but Varric stopped her. “I don’t care who hears,” he growled, beginning to thrust into her again. “I don’t care who knows that you’ve come back to me alive and gorgeous and sexy and _mine_.”  


“All yours,” she panted, rocking against him. “Forever.” Her eyelids fluttered open and the heat in them almost sent Varric over the edge. She smiled at him, but there was an edge to it and Varric was reminded in that moment that for all of his worry, she was truly a force to be reckoned with. “So when does the having me start?” she teased.  


He chuckled darkly, reaching down to grab her hair and jerk her head back, baring her throat to him. He licked and sucked along the smooth column of her skin, tasting the sweat and smelling the musky scent of the woman he adored. He didn’t care that she was sweaty, or smelly, or anything but the fact that she was alive and her warm, soft body was beneath his.   


“Harder,” she moaned, tightening her leg over his shoulder. “Fuck I have missed you, Varric!”  


“You...too!” he grunted, nipping at her ear. It turned into a drawn-out moan of need as she clenched around him. “Damn it, Hawke, I won’t last if you do that!”  


She did it again, because of course she did, and Varric let out a breathless laugh. “Something you want, Hawke?” he panted.   


“I want you to cum in me,” she said, meeting and holding his eyes. “I want you to cum in me, Varric because I’m yours and you’re mine and I never want to be away from you again!”  


He shuddered and kissed her, pumping his hips harder. “I think that can be arranged,” he grunted as he felt his body draw closer and closer to his release. “Maker, Hawke! I’m going to-”  
Any words he might have said were lost in a howl of release as his orgasm struck him with force that made his knees weak. It had been so long and she felt so good and she was home and when he finally came back to himself tears were streaming down both of their faces as he lay on top of her.   


“I love you,” he said before anything could happen. “With all of my heart, Hawke. Thank you for coming home.”  


She smiled at him and kissed his hair. “I love you too,” she said. Her gentle fingers stroked through his hair and he caught her smiling.   


“What is it?” he asked.  


“You’re grayer at the temples,” she observed. “Very distinguished.”  


He gave her a playful nip on the collarbone. “It seems cruel of you to point them out,” he teased. “Given that you’re responsible for at least half of them.”   


She giggled and then pushed his shoulder, and he slid out of her regretfully. “I definitely need to bathe now,” she said with a languid stretch. Her stomach rumbled and they both laughed. “And eat. Maker, I’ve worked up an appetite.”  


Varric helped her up and gave her a long, lingering kiss before letting her go wash up while he did the same, though to a lesser extent. Though watching her in the baths had him hard again in what seemed like an improbable amount of time, the last thing he wanted was to rush her. She deserved time to relax.   


Hawke had always been fastidious about her personal cleanliness, and she spent easily an hour and a half scrubbing every inch of herself at least twice. When she was finally satisfied, she joined him in the hot soaking pool. She settled into the hot water with an appreciative hiss, with her head resting on his shoulder. He turned and kissed her forehead, smiling when she cuddled against his side.   


“This is much better,” she said quietly.   


“The smell has certainly improved,” he teased.  


She elbowed and he gave her a resounding kiss on the cheek. “I’ve missed you,” she said, stroking her fingertips up and down his leg.   


“I’ve missed you too,” he said, tightening his arm around her shoulders. He glanced over at her. “Do you want to talk about Weisshaupt?”  


“Nope!”  


He nodded, knowing that she would tell him when she was ready. They stayed in the soaking tub until her stomach let out another loud growl. “Come on, Champion,” Varric teased, standing. “Let’s get some food in you.”  


She didn’t move, her eyes locked on him with such intensity that he felt suddenly self-conscious.  


“What?” he asked. “Do I have a darkspawn on me, or something?”  


“You look so good,” she said quietly, the heat in her eyes sending shivers through him. She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock, her hand sliding up the back of his thigh to cup his ass.   


He groaned, his fingers sliding into her hair as she sucked down his length until all of him was in her mouth. He was helpless against her clever lips and tongue and he found himself bucking into her wet embrace, his fingers clenching her hair and pulling her up and down. She hollowed out her cheeks as she sucked him, one of her hands on his ass, the other cupping his balls as she drove him towards the edge.  


“Maker, Hawke!” he gasped when she slammed her mouth down so hard she gagged herself. The feeling of her throat clenching around him made him cry out her name as the muscles in his belly tightened. “Hawke! I’m going to-”  


She glanced up at him and gave him a cocky smile with her mouth still around him and the vision of her kneeling before him, sucking him off was too much. He came abruptly, snapping his hips back and forth as she rode him out, her lovely mouth forming a tight seal around him until he was panting and trembling. “Hawke,” he grunted. “Hawke, no more! Fuck!”  


She pulled back and let him slide out of her mouth with an obscene popping sound. The same cocky smile was on her face as she stuck out her tongue, letting him see his cum. She swallowed, giggling when he jerked her to her feet and pulled her against him.   


“Minx!” he growled as he kissed her.  


“Mmmhm,” she agreed happily.   


Varric took a shuddering breath and let her go so that he could grab them both towels. They dried each other tenderly and then made their way to his private rooms where a fire was crackling in the fireplace and a covered tray sat on his table.   


Varric went to his wardrobe and pulled out one of his shirts, handing it to Hawke. He found an old pair of breeches that his new, sedentary lifestyle as the Viscount had seen relegated to the back of the wardrobe and handed those to her as well. They both dressed and he turned around in time to catch her smelling the shirt and smiling.   


“It smells like you,” she said with a soft smile. “Makes me feel safe.”  


“You are,” he promised, gesturing for her to help herself. He watched as she filled a plate with several large pieces of venison tenderloin, a huge serving of potatoes, a buttered roll, and a fillet of fish. She ate it all, as he knew she would, while he made a light supper for himself. When she had cleaned her plate she eyed the tray for a moment before shaking her head regretfully. “I want more,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t remember the last time I ate until I was full. But I don’t want to get sick.” She shot him a look. “I can think of much better uses for my mouth tonight.”  


Varric shuddered and rose from his chair, pulling her to her feet as he did. “I can think of one thing,” he said, hurrying over to his desk. He opened the secret drawer and reached inside, pulling out a little bag.   


“Oh?” Hawke asked, watching him with one raised eyebrow. “What’s that?”  


“You can use it to answer a question,” Varric said, returning to her. “Seriously, for once in your life, if you don’t mind.”  


She grinned at him. “No promises, Varric. I am what I am.”  


“You are,” he said, smiling up at her. His heart was pounding, but he had to do this before some other crazy shit conspired to take them away from each other. “And I wouldn’t change you,” he said. 

His lips quirked into a smile. “Well, I might make you better about writing so that I didn’t have to worry so much,” he teased.   


“That wasn’t my-”  


“I know,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall her protest. He took a deep breath. “Hawke, we’ve known each other for over a decade, and it took us this long to actually get together. I don’t want to wait another decade before I do what I wish I had done years ago.”  


Her eyes were very wide and he saw her swallow hard. “And-and what’s that?” she asked.   


He sank to one knee, pulling out the little velvet bag and emptying it into his hand. Inside there were two silver rings. He picked up the smaller one and held it up. “Hawke, you are my best friend in the world, my partner in crime, easily my favorite human, and the only person I can imagine growing old in this bat-shit crazy world with. Before any other crazy shit can happen to us, I want to ask you if you’ll be my wife. Because we both know more crazy shit is going to happen, but it’ll be easier to face together.”  


Tears were streaking down her face, despite the huge smile on her lips. “Fuck me, Varric,” she breathed and it was just such a Hawke thing to say that he started laughing.  


“Not the conventional response,” he teased, his heart still pounding. What if it was too soon?  


“Sorry, sorry, you’re right,” she said, wiping her eyes on the long sleeve of her borrowed shirt. She held out her hand, her eyes fixed on his. “Yes,” she said softly. “Of course the answer is yes, Varric. It’s always been you.”  


He rose and slid the ring on her finger, giving her a slow, sweet kiss.  


“I want to do yours,” she said, smiling down at him when he’d pulled back.  


“You should read the inscription first,” he said, cupping her chin and running his thumb along her lower lip.  


She squinted in the dim light as she brought his larger ring up to her face. Her cheeks colored as she softly read aloud: “And they lived happily ever after.”


	2. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Hawke gets left behind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking some liberties with the story and how the Fade works, but given what we see the Inquisitor do in DA:I, I do think what happens in this chapter is plausible.

“Where’s Hawke?” For the rest of his days, Varric would never forget asking that question and seeing the look that passed between Inquisitor Lavellan and the Warden Stroud. “Where’s Hawke?” he had asked again, as though maybe repeating the question would change the answer he saw scrawled across their faces. He knew that look. He’d given that look. The Inquisitor had replied with some platitude about Hawke dying a hero and suddenly, Varric couldn’t look at her, at the Seeker, at any of them. And in that moment, Varric Tethras, writer, storyteller, had had nothing to say but a vague “well...” and then he’d shambled off, utterly lost.  


That first night had been the easiest in a lot of ways. The horrors of the battle at Adamant had exhausted him sufficiently that he had slept out of sheer, raw need. But that was the last time.  


The raw exhaustion had faded and other things had crept in. There wasn’t a word for the sense of loss that he felt, nothing that adequately plumbed the depths of his loneliness or sheer, Maker-cursed regret. He’d had so many chances over the decade of their friendship to tell her what she truly meant to him. So many chances to tell her-  


Varric stopped himself. What good was thinking those words now, when she was so far beyond his reach?  


The Inquisitor had had the good sense to avoid him after Adamant, beyond a couple attempts at apologizing, as though that could possibly mean anything. He knew he should understand. That he should buy into all the “greater good” crap. That they had made great strides in the fight against Corypheus, that they had been successful against all odds and by very measure except bringing Hawke, his Hawke home safe. Now she was lost, Maker knew where, and he was more alone than he’d ever been in his entire life.  


Cabot didn’t even need to ask to pour him another, and Varric took this one and climbed the steps up to Cole’s quiet corner of the Herald’s Rest. Not a lot of people came up here, probably creeped out by the kid. That was fine with Varric. He curled up with his back against the wall opposite where Cole usually loitered and closed his eyes, trying to imagine one of the many nights spent with Hawke at the Hanged Man. The sound of her laugh, the way she flirted with Isabella, the casual way she slung her arm around his shoulder and leaned against him. The ease between them when she was too drunk to walk home and instead curled up in his bed, hogging most of it, and snoring like a qunari after a bender. They’d kissed one of those nights. A long, languid kiss that they had never spoken of again.  


_Idiot_ , Varric cursed himself, burying his head in his hands. 

“I can make it stop hurting,” the kid’s voice came from right in front of him. 

Varric didn’t have the energy to jump. “Not now, kid.” 

He felt Cole crouch next to him. “I can make you forget,” he said. “The twisting pain inside you, the regret, the loss, I can take it all away. Untie the knot, untangle it, make it so that you never knew her-”  


Varric was on his feet before he even realized he was moving, spilling his ale all over himself in his haste. “Kid, STOP!”  


The boy’s brow furrowed. “But you’re my friend,” he insisted, pressing forward. “I want to help.” Varric realized that he was shaking when he held his hands up. “No.”   


“But-”   


“I SAID NO!,” Varric bellowed so loudly that he could feel his throat burn. Below them all the sounds of chatter died abruptly.  


“Varric?” he heard Iron Bull’s heavy steps on the stairs and he fled, unwilling to face anymore “concern”.  


But that had been more than a month ago. A month of lying awake at night, unable to chase her face from his mind. Unable to stop wondering if she’d thought of him in her last moments. A month of writing letters, setting her affairs in order. A month of fielding questions of if there would be funeral. Surely there must be, she was the champion of Kirkwall, after all. And wouldn’t her oldest, dearest friend be so kind as to organize the particulars? He thought that he could handle it, that he could carry her with him forever. That he owed her that. He did, he did owe it to her, but Maker knew he wasn’t sure that he could do it anymore. He just felt so lost. He had tried writing, tried talking about her, drinking to forget her, tried letting Bull beat him to a pulp in the practice ring so that he was too exhausted to think. Nothing worked. All he wanted was to hear her voice one last time, to have the chance to tell her. Varric tilted the bottle up and scowled at it when nothing came out. Fine. He wanted to go see Cole anyway.  


He found the kid where he was always lurking, and Varric stumbled the last couple of steps to him. “Kid,” he slurred.  


Cole cocked his head. “You are drunk as a skink,” he said.   


“Skunk, kid, it’s skunk. And yes.”  


“You want to forget,” Cole said, “but not forever forget. That’s why you have been drinking so much. You want to forget, but you don’t.”  


Varric scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Just tonight,” he whispered finally. “Maker, kid, I...can’t keep this up. Just...just for tonight, can you make me forget?”  


The spirit hesitated, then nodded and reached for Varric’s temples. 

“Cole, no,” a familiar, quiet voice said. 

“Stay out of it, Solas,” Varric said, too tired to even bother with his usual nicknames or to wonder where in the hell the elf had come from.  


“I am glad that you’re here, my friend,” Solas said, a kind expression on his normally inscrutable face. “I wanted to talk to you.”  


“Spare me,” Varric growled. “I’m not going to assassinate your girlfriend, Solas. But that’s all I can promise right now.” He swallowed hard. “And don’t tell me how sorry you are, because you’re not. You’re not sorry, not _enough_. Tonight you can go to her room and she will be there. You can touch her, hold her, tell her-” the tears choked the flow of words. He raised his hands up and let them drop. “I can’t do this,” he said and spun away from their concerned faces. Another bottle would have to do tonight.  


**** 

Solas watched the dwarf go, sighing sadly. He had experienced enough loss in his lifetime to know what his friend was feeling.  


“He doesn’t want to forget her,” Cole said quietly. “But he does.” 

“He wants to stop hurting,” Solas said. “But he feels it would be disloyal to her, to her memory.” 

“I want to help,” Cole said, his brow furrowed. 

“As do I,” Solas said with a sigh. “But I confess I am at a loss as to how to do so.” 

They were both quiet for a moment and then Cole gave a little gasp. “Memory!” the spirit said. “Memory, mind, map, mapping, making the way!” And then he was gone. 

Solas permitted himself a rueful smile and turned to go back to the rotunda. Perhaps if he consulted Dorian the two of them might find some way to bring Varric a modicum of peace.  


****  


_The scent of ale long gone off the sound of coins on wood the warmth of Varric next to her the bewildered look on Merrills face Isabella calling her kitten Fenris grumbling Anders needling him home safe at home. Aveline shaking her head at all of them and threatening Isabella if she kept cheating Varric’s thigh warm against hers Varric Varric Varric home, the links of his chain binding binding anchoring her....home...she wanted to go go home. Help won’t someone help can you hear me Varric?_  


****  


Solas jumped the next night when Cole appeared, gasping in the middle of his desk. The boy’s eyes were wild with an odd mix of fear and excitement. “Solas!” he breathed. “I can make Varric stop hurting, I can do it! She’s alive, she’s there, waiting, wishing, worried, weary. But we have to hurry, haste, she’s faded. All new for him, fading for her, the nightmare-”  


Solas held up a hand. “Are you-are you saying that you found Hawke?” he asked, his eyes bright and inquisitive. “That you were able to...track her in the fade?”  


“I saw Varric’s memories,” Cole said. “When I was going to hide them. I saw them, sensed them, felt their scent and I thought, I thought that if her mind, her memory held on to him like he does to her then maybe and I think...” he brushed his hair away from his eyes. “I think we can get to her. But we need the Inquisitor, need a path.”  


Solas hesitated, hating the thought of putting her in danger. It was selfish, he was selfish. He forced himself to take a breath. “I will ask her,” he said. “She is the Inquisitor, she must decide.”  


“Hurry,” Cole urged. “Hurry before I can’t follow.”  
*****  


Lavellan agreed, of course she did. Solas could hardly call himself surprised. She felt responsibility for Hawke’s death keenly. The advisers had been against it, naturally, but she’d convinced them on the condition that Cullen and Leliana would be standing by in case anything went wrong and that Cassandra would go with and that Cullen and Leliana would be standing by in case anything went wrong and that Cassandra would go with them into the fade.  


“It’s not like I’m going back in,” she had reminded them. “Just opening a rift. All I need is you to make sure nothing comes through that, you know, eats me. Or drives me insane.” She smiled the cocky smile that told Solas that she was afraid, but he saw the determination in her eyes. “I’m going to go and tell Varric.”  


“Are you sure that’s wise?” Solas asked, but she held up a hand. 

“I owe it to him,” she said quietly. And that was that.  


****  


The fade looked different from how Varric had imagined it. For one thing, he had expected it to live up to its name, be sort of misty and ethereal. But where they were was green, black, and jagged. Solas had explained something about it belonging to a specific creature called the Nightmare. Maker knew that the things that hunted them as they followed Cole’s trail lived up to the name. He’d always hated spiders. But as they progressed Cole got more and more excited until they rounded a corner and Varric felt his heart stop.  


Hawke.  


****  


The Mantle of the Champion had never felt as heavy as it did that cold morning as she stood in the wan light of the Gallows. They had lost, lost everything. The mages were gone, Orsino an abomination, Anders executed by her own hand, and for what? Meredith had retaken control of the tower and no one seemed to see her for what she was. They had been bound, imprisoned, her and her friends. She had convinced them to follow her, convinced them it was right, and now...now she would pay for her pride. Pay for thinking she could make a difference, for thinking she knew what to do. She was kept back by Cullen and a group of his templars, not that they were needed. She’d been given so much magebane that she didn’t think she could find her magic again ever. One by one Meredith, her red eyes gleaming, dragged her friends forward despite Hawke’s screams and begging.  


Merrill, dear, sweet Merrill had been first and though Hawke had begged Meredith to take her instead, it was Merrill that they performed the Rite of Tranquility on. The chantry sun stood out in stark contrast with the Dalish tattoos and Hawke struggled to get to her friend before they handed her off to the templar who’d contrived the Tranquil Solution. He’d smiled at Merrill, an evil smile, before leading her away where Hawke couldn’t follow.  


The qunari had taken Isabella, who looked afraid for the first time Hawke had ever seen. She’d reached for Hawke, for Fenris, her warm eyes wide and terrified as the Arishok had bound her. Her screams echoed through the gallows as she was dragged away, abruptly stopping with a strangled gasp.  


Denarius had come for Fenris, his smile ugly and cruel as he had draped a collar around the elf's and tightened it. “Hawke-” Fenris had whispered before Denarius tapped into Fenris’ lyrium, making the elf cry out with pain and stumble to the ground. When he rose the rebellious light was gone from Fenris’ eyes, leaving them as dull as a beast of burden.  


Aveline sobbed over the body of Donnic, her arms bloody as she clutched his head to her chest. Her eyes focused on Hawke for a moment as she sobbed: “I trusted you”. The eyes went dull as the red sword of the night commander beheaded her and Hawke couldn’t help but squirm away as the head rolled towards her.  


“Maker no no no no no, please no,” she was sobbing. The ropes burned her arms as she tried to escape them, to escape what she knew was coming next.  


Varric. 

And then there he was, a hangman’s noose around his neck, his normally warm eyes cold as they met hers. “We all trusted you,” he said, his voice bitter. “And look where it’s gotten us.” He let out a derisive snort of laughter. “Our Champion.”  


“Varric please,” Hawke sobbed, her voice raw. “Please, I didn’t mean-I tried, you have to believe me, I tried, I’m so sorry!” She looked around at the impassive faces of the guards and Meredith. “Please,” she begged. “Take me, make me tranquil, torture me, make me a slave, kill me. Just please, not him!” The ropes tightened and Varric’s eyes never left hers as he was pulled up until he dangled above the ground, his legs jerking and spasming.  


“NO!” she howled. “VARRIC NO!” But the templars held her fast and she had no choice but to watch as his face reddened and the movements of his legs grew weaker. She sobbed his name now, over and over, struggling still as the tears poured down her face.  


“Varric! Not him…Please...” And then he was gone. The templars let her drop to the ground, but it didn’t matter, none of it mattered. They were all gone. She’d failed them all so utterly and completely that it was pathetic. She didn’t struggle when they jerked her upright, turning her head so that she wouldn’t have to see his body swaying at the end of a rope. She saw the brand approaching her and after a lifetime of fearing it, she found she welcomed the prospect of Tranquility. She let out great, wracking sobs as the templars approached her, feeling the heat of the brand drawing closer and closer, and just as she gave herself over to despair, to the Nightmare, she heard the THUMP of Bianca’s action and Varric howling her name.  


****  


“YOU GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” Varric screamed, firing Bianca over and over and over at Meredith, the Templars, everyone who was making Hawke look so lost. He was barely aware of Cassandra’s disgusted grunt as she, Solas, and Cole waded into the fray. It didn’t take long for the Gallows to resolve into the eerie, sharp greens of the Fade as the demons sent wave after wave against them. Then it appeared, the despair demon. Varric felt all of the hope drain out of him as he watched the templar begin to chant and press the burning brand against Hawke’s forehead. She screamed, but it abruptly cut off into a sad little moan as she slumped over. When she rose, her gorgeous amber eyes were dull and her face utterly expressionless.   


“No,” Varric heard himself whisper. “NO!” He hurled himself forward, interposing his body between her and the demon. “HAWKE!” he screamed as pumped bolt after bolt into the demon. “HAWKE, IT’S NOT REAL! I”M HERE, HAWKE!” He lost track of time as he attacked the advancing demon and then, Bianca ran dry. The demon was still approaching, Hawke, still tranquil, so Varric did the only thing left to do. He dropped to his knees next to her and wrapped his arms around her as tight as he could. “I’m here, Hawke,” he whispered. He felt something icy cold and horrible slice into his back and sides and knew that the demon had him in his grasp. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. He took Hawke’s cheeks in his hands and looked into her eyes. “I’m here,” he managed to grunt before the demon yanked up abruptly, slicing his back wide open.   


“Varric!” the Seeker cried. And then she was there, her shield battering the demon back as Cole attacked it from behind. Solas sprinted to Varric’s side, throwing a barrier over them and casting wildly. It took time, but with a final sickening crunch, Cassandra buried her blade in what passed for the demon’s flesh. It died and from what felt like miles away, he heard the Inquisitor’s voice. The veil surged around them and then suddenly, they were back on solid ground. Varric kept his arms around Hawke as the others ran up to them, and the last thing he remembered was Cassandra telling him that everything would be all right.

*****  


Varric woke up by inches and the first thing that he realized was that he fucking hurt all over. His back and ribs felt like he had gone a hundred rounds with the Iron Bull. The second thing he realized was that he was back in Skyhold. Out of the Fade.   


“Hawke?” Maker, but he sounded horrible.   


There was an answering whimper from across the room. He turned, and there she was.   


“Hawke,” he whispered. It took everything he had, but he sat up slowly and swung his legs to the side of the bed. She was there, scarcely six feet away, on another cot. She looked fucking awful. Her dark skin was waxy and damp with sweat, and there were bruises around her wrists and neck. She was emaciated, which he supposed made sense. She’d been in the Fade for weeks, after all.   


Varric slid off his cot, wincing as he did. It was only a few steps over to Hawke, but he barely made it. He collapsed into a convenient stool and took her hand in his. It was freezing. “Oh Hawke,” he whispered. “You’ll be ok, I promise. I promise, ok? Just fight for me.” He thought that he felt her squeeze his hand, then the room spun around him and went dark.  


The next time Varric woke up, his cot had been scooted close enough to Hawke’s that he could reach out and touch her. He looked around blearily and found himself meeting the Seeker’s eyes.   


“The healers thought it would be better to move you before you seriously hurt yourself,” she said with a small smile. She pulled up a chair and sat down. “How are you feeling?”  


“Like ten kinds of shit,” Varric said. “Hawke-”  


“She’s fine,” Cassandra said, holding up a hand. “She needs to eat and rest, but she is alive. How are you, Varric?”  


“Sore,” he said. “But-” his throat closed abruptly. Hawke was alive. She was there. He could still tell her. “But otherwise, fucking _great_.”   


The Seeker grinned -- Varric knew she had a romantic streak -- and then she patted his shoulder and left. He managed to reach out and take Hawke’s hand before the darkness claimed him again.   


****  


“Varric?”  


He started awake, sitting up far too fast and causing him to gasp in pain. He felt cool fingers close around his. “Varric.”  


He let himself lay back down, angling so that he was able to look at her. “Hawke.”  


Her eyes were back to normal, amber, one eyebrow raised, no fucking sunburst.   


“You came for me,” she said quietly. “Into the Fade.”  


“Naturally,” he said, forcing himself to swallow past the lump in his throat. “What is a trusty dwarf sidekick without his, well, you?”  


She eased herself up onto her elbow with a grunt, then with painstaking slowness slid her way off of her own cot and onto his. She snuggled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder, sliding her free arm around his waist. “Thank you,” she whispered. A moment later she started to snore.  


“Any time, Marian,” Varric whispered, pressing his lips to her hair.   


****  


When he woke up in the morning, she was still curled up against him. She’d draped a leg over his and sometime during the night her fingertips had slid into the waistband of his trousers. Varric forced himself to lie still. He wanted to grab her, to kiss her, to tell her everything. But then she shifted against him, quietly mumbling his name, and all he could do was tighten his arms around her. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.  


“I know,” she replied.  


Though he’d never put it in one of his books, Varric jumped. “You’re awake!”  


Hawke chuckled, though it sounded rough. “Kind of,” she said. She swallowed hard. “Or, it’s just another trick of the Fade.”  


Varric shook his head, reaching down and cupping her chin. “It’s not,” he whispered, his eyes burning. “Hawke, I swear to you, it’s not. I’m here. You’re here. I’ve got you.”  


She shook her head, shivering. “How do I know?” She sounded so scared, so lost. Varric felt himself tipping her chin up as he look her in the eyes.   


“Marian,” he whispered. “Have I ever lied to you?”  


She shook her head and he pressed his lips to hers with more force than he’d intended. She gave a startled little moan, her leg tightening around his. He brushed her lips with his tongue and she parted them, her tongue slipping out to caress his. She moved against him, and Varric could feel his body responding. He wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone...but now was not that time.  


He pulled away slowly. “Hawke-”  


“Varric.” Her eyes were fixed on him.   


He forced himself to smile. “We have plenty of time.”  


“Do we?” she whispered.   


He nodded, stroking her hair. “Yes,” he said. “I promise. But you need to rest.”  


It spoke to how exhausted she was that she nodded and curled up against him once again without arguing. She fell asleep quickly, and Varric pulled the blanket up to cover her.   


****  


“NO NO NO NO NO NO!”  


Varric woke up falling to the floor as her thrashing sent him hurtling from the bed. He managed to stumble to his feet, wincing as the wounds on his back threatened to open.  


“Hawke!”  


Her eyes were wide and terrified as she thrashed under the sheets. “NO!” she sobbed. “NO, please, please!” she had her palm pressed against her forehead and Varric knew that she was fighting off the templars again. “I WON’T!” she screamed.   


Varric reached out and grabbed her hands, pulling them away from her face. “Hawke!” he said urgently. “Marian!”   


Her eyes focused on him. “Varric, please-” she whimpered. “Please don’t let Alrik take me!”  


Varric gritted his teeth, his insides suddenly squirming with rage. That name. The Tranquil Solution. He suddenly knew that being made Tranquil wasn't all that Hawke was fighting in her dreams.  


“He will _never_ touch you,” Varric growled. “I swear to you, Hawke. Never!”  


She shuddered hard, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “He was going to use us, Varric. I-”  


“I’ve got you,” Varric growled. “We killed him, don’t you remember, Hawke? He’s dead. You’re safe.”  


“Safe,” she whispered, hugging him. “Thank you.”  


*****  


He was awake when she called for him the next time. As his injuries healed, he found himself falling into his old routine. Sleeping in, spending the day immersing himself in other people’s lives and intrigues, then retiring at the end of the night with a bottle of wine, a quill, and the blank page. He wasn’t working on Hard in Hightown or Swords and Shields this time, however. He was writing about Hawke. Not Tale of the Champion Hawke, or the Hawke that he wrote about in his letters to Aveline, Fenris, Isabella, and Merrill, but his Hawke. About how her brow furrowed when she was losing Wicked Grace, how her laugh changed after one too many terrible Ferelden ales, about the way his heart stopped when he saw her get that look that told him she was about to fling herself in the path of danger to protect someone she loved. He wanted a record of every little thing that he’d taken for granted and thought he lost.   


“Varric?”  


He looked over and she was up on her elbow watching him. Her hair was longer than she ever let it get and he watched as she tucked it behind her ear. He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Hawke.”  


She motioned him over and he complied instantly, absently brushing his ink-stained hands on his trousers. She patted the bed next to her and he sat down, reaching out and brushing his thumb over the little scar that cut into her lip. “You have so many new scars,” he heard himself say. 

Hawke gently rested her hand over his. “Scars happen.”  


“Not if I can help it,” he whispered.  


“Oh, Varric,” she murmured. She grabbed his shirt by the wide open lapels and pulled him down. Their noses brushed for a moment and then she pressed her lips to his. It was soft at first, the barest brush of skin on skin. But then she parted her lips and Varric could feel her smiling as her tongue darted out to tease his lips open. He eased down next to her, his hands going into her hair and tightening. It took all of his self control not to simply devour her and as she moved restlessly against him he got the sense that he wasn’t the only one fighting a losing battle. She draped her leg over his hip and pulled him closer, making a breathless noise of need. In the back of his mind, Varric was half-expecting to wake up. He’d had this dream more than once. But Hawke felt so deliciously solid under his hands. He tried not to groan with frustration as she put her hand on his chest and pushed him back just slightly.   


“Varric,” she said, her eyes just a little too bright as they focused on him. “There’s something I need to say.”  


He brushed her hair away from her face, swallowing hard past the knot in his throat. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, running his thumb over her full lips.   


“I do,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow with a wince. She reached her other hand out and laced her fingers through his. “First of all, thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for coming after me. Thank you for bringing me out of that nightmare.”  


“Thank the kid,” Varric said with a chuckle. “He and Solas are the ones who-”  


“You didn’t have to come,” Hawke said. “You could have left it to the experts. The spirit, the fade-walker, the Inquisitor. Any of them. But you came.”  


Varric squeezed her fingers, abruptly overcome with guilt. “I didn’t think of it for so long,” he said quietly. “Hell, I’m not even the one who thought of it. All I could think of was that I’d lost you without ever getting to tell you…” he trailed off, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. This was it. The moment. “I had to find you,” he managed to rasp.   


“What did you want to tell me?” she asked, her eyes wide and curious. But Varric had played a lot of hands of Wicked Grace with her. He knew that she was bluffing. Her left eyebrow always went up a little bit when she was. Under any other circumstance, he would have called her on it, but after everything they had gone through just to get to where they were, he couldn’t.   


“I think you know,” he said softly, stroking her cheek and forcing himself to hold her eyes. “I think you know that I love you, Marian Hawke. That I’m in love with you. Have been for years.”   


“Fuck,” she replied, her lip quirking upwards just a little as the tears started to spill down her cheeks.   


He couldn’t help it, he let out a bark of laughter. It was just a perfectly Hawke thing to say at that moment. She swatted him in the shoulder, laughing.   


“Damn it,” she said and Varric was a little smug to see that she was blushing. She leaned her forehead against his. “Sorry, I just…” she gulped. “There’s a part of me that feels like I must still be in the Fade. Like the rug is gonna get pulled out from under me.”  


He pulled her to him, wrapping both of his arms around her as tight as he could. “It’s real,” he promised, hearing how his voice broke in the middle.  


She pulled back a little bit, meeting his eyes. “Even if it isn’t,” she said softly, “I can’t risk not getting to tell you again. I love you, Varric. I think maybe...I always have.” The tears were falling faster now. “I know I always will.”  


“Please don’t cry, Marian,” he whispered, brushing the tears from her cheeks. He kissed her lips, her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks, and her fingers. “I swear to you, I’ll always love you too. You’ve got me. You always have and you always will.”  


It was like a sluicegate opened then. Hawke began to sob and Varric held her as tight as he could, letting his own tears fall. They stayed that way for a long time, until her sobs faded into deep breaths and eventually snores. Varric didn’t dare move, letting his arm fall asleep as he clutched her to him hard. The even rise and fall of her chest against him slowly lulled him until he too fell asleep.  


****  


“Varric?”  


Varric jerked from his slumber, startled. He found himself looking into Hawke’s eyes as she grinned at him.   


“You’re here!” she said, hugging him so tightly around the waist that it squeezed the air out of him. He didn’t mind. He was very good at squeezing. He reciprocated in kind, holding her to him like a drowning man.  


“Always,” he replied, releasing her to cup her chin. He kissed her, wanting to prove to himself that their words the night before weren’t a dream. “I love you, Marian.”  


“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice catching a little bit. Her fingers twined into his hair as she wrapped her leg around him, pulling him closer, and Varric shuddered as his body rather stridently reminded him how long it had been since he’d felt anything even remotely like her body pressed against him.   


“Hawke,” he said hoarsely. “Marian.”  


She pulled back a little, her eyes suddenly wide and vulnerable. “I-is something wrong?”  


He took a shuddering breath, running his hands up and down her back and trying to convince his body to settle down. “You’re still recovering,” he managed to say. “I don’t-I can’t take advantage of you Hawke, I can’t risk hurting you. Hurting...us.”  


She nuzzled under his chin, her lips soft and gentle as she began to kiss him. “We don’t have to...rush,” she said quietly, her fingertips sliding into the open collar of his shirt. “I just....I need to feel you, Varric.” She went still for a moment. “But if you...if we’re not ready-”  


The uncertainty in her voice was too much for him. He’d never meant to suggest that he didn’t want her. Maker, he was fucking it up. For once in his life, words were doing Varric Tethras absolutely no good. He settled instead for kissing her, pouring every ounce of his love, desire, and need into it. It must have worked, because she moaned and suddenly Varric found himself on top of her, his hands framing her face. “Shhhh,” he whispered, running his thick fingers through her hair. “Let’s just- _Maker, were they actually going to do this?_ \- let’s take it slow, all right? We have all the time in the world.”


	3. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric visits his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have guessed from the title, this is the darkest of the chapters.

“Sorry I’m late, Hawke,” Varric huffed as he plopped down next to her. “I had to have a meeting with Seneschal Bran. You would think after all that we did for Kirkwall, that they might let a man get a few minutes to himself to spend with an old friend. But no, it’s always ‘Viscount, this requires your immediate attention’. ‘Viscount, the Prince of Starkhaven has sent an emissary’. ‘Viscount, Divine Victoria has written asking when the next Sword and Shields book is coming out’. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I kept writing them. They seem to bring the Seeker so much joy.” He glanced over at her. “There needs to be more joy in the world, Hawke.”  


They were quiet for a few minutes before Varric sighed. “Viscount of Kirkwall. It’s been a four years and it still doesn’t feel real. I know in here that it’s the right thing for me to do,” he said, pointing at his heart. “Especially with Chuckles out there gearing up to end the world. But damn if it isn’t hard.” He sighed. “It would be a lot easier if you’d help out, you know.”  


He stared off towards the setting sun. “If you had told me back when I paid that guy to pickpocket you that this is where I’d end up, I’d have laughed and asked how many rounds you’d had at the Hanged Man.”   


He glanced at her and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, I paid that guy. A tidy sum, if I’m honest. The things I had heard about you during your first years in Kirkwall...well, let’s just say it takes a lot to impress Athenril like that. I knew that if I could just get you to talk to me, we might be able to do something really special.”   


He swallowed hard, his throat abruptly tightening. “I’d say that we did, wouldn’t you, Hawke? I know that things went to shit there a bit in the end, what with what Blondie did. But I think that we did more good than bad, on the balance.” He shook his head. “I know that I would never change meeting you. Even now. I just wish that I had been a braver man sometime in the last fourteen years. I wish that I had been brave enough to tell you that I love you. That I’ve been in love with you since, oh, the Deep Roads, I’d say. I was ready to give up when Bartrand shut that door, I really was. It had been such a hassle just to make it into that room, I just didn’t see us making it out. But you were so stubborn. You were always so stubborn. You found a way, just like always. You got us out and I spent the next eleven years knowing that there would never be a woman I admired as much. There would never be anyone who made me feel like you still do.” 

He shook his head, his throat burning as the tears began to trickle down his face. “Damn it, Hawke, it’s been almost five years and I still can’t do this without crying.” He looked at her, anguish tearing at his heart. “Why did you have to be so damn _you_ at Adamant? Why did you have to look at that fucking thing and decide it was your job? You weren’t the Champion of Adamant, or the Champion of the Inquisition. You were Champion of Kirkwall!” The tears overtook him, making it hard to talk. “You were _my_ Champion.”  


He leaned against her and let the sobs take him over completely, wrapping his arms around himself. Sometimes, late at night, he could swear that he smelled her perfume and felt the reassuring warmth of her arms around him.   


“It should have been me,” he whispered after some time. “I’m sorry, Hawke. I’m so damn sorry. I’m sorry that I brought Red Lyrium into our lives. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you when it counted. I’m sorry that I never told you how much I love you.” He clenched his fists. “I’m sorry that I don’t visit as often as I should.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Like I said before, I wish I was stronger, but seeing you here...it breaks my heart every time. I’d rather see you in the stories I tell. When I tell people about some crazy shit that we did, I can almost hear you laughing sometimes. It’s the only time I really feel at home anymore.” 

He looked up at her with a watery smile. “I’ll give it to the artisans though, they did a hell of a job.” He’d commissioned the statue after the city had put up the official one of the Champion because, well, it just didn’t look like her. He’d intended it to be a Midwinter present, knowing that she would be utterly appalled and the two of them would have a good laugh. But now, at least, when he visited, he was able to see her face. 

She stood with her staff outstretched, the wild, determined smile that always meant they were about to get into some weird shit forever frozen on her lovely face.   


He rose and placed the little bouquet of Andraste’s Grace on her grave. “I should get back,” he said softly. He reached up and cupped the likeness of her cheek. “I miss you, Hawke,” he said. “If you couldn’t tell. I hope that, wherever you are, you’re happy.” His lips curled into a smile that wobbled. “And don’t worry about your trusty dwarven sidekick. I’ll be ok. I won’t pretend that I don’t look forward to seeing you again one day, but I have things to take care of here first.” He straightened and squared his shoulders. “I love you Hawke. Always will. Save me a seat.”


End file.
